


Agent Provocateur

by sw33n3y



Category: The Professionals
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sw33n3y/pseuds/sw33n3y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An undercover sting has an unexpected outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agent Provocateur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ML Mead (moonlightmead)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmead/gifts).



> This was written in 2013, as a gift.

The door to Cowley’s office swung unceremoniously shut. Another inch and it would have made contact with Bodie’s nose. He flinched and looked at Doyle, who shrugged half-heartedly and gestured towards the end of the hall.  
  
Barely a word passed between them as they made their way out of the building. Betty’s sunny greeting, on the stairs, drew little more than a muffled grunt from Bodie as he became increasingly occupied with his own thoughts. Doyle noticed himself doubling his pace to keep up.  
  
It was the warmest evening of the year, a perfect time to go out and celebrate the end to a successful op, except that it wasn’t - not a success and after the day’s events, not even close to being finished. It was a bloody shambles in fact and the blame sat squarely on Bodie’s shoulders.  
  
They reached the car and just as Bodie slid the key into the lock, he looked up. _There it is again_ , he mused, transfixed by the picture of angelic smugness standing opposite. Calm jade eyes trained serenely on him; sweetheart, _did he really say that?_ The ‘sweetheart’ curves of Doyle’s lips, judgemental in their silence. Was he mocking him, or was this Ray’s glad-it’s-not-me-this-time expression? Either way, it infuriated him.  
  
‘Yeah, and butter wouldn’t melt in _your_ mouth, mate!’  
  
‘What did you expect Bodie, a cigar?’  
  
It was true that ‘mission above all’ Bodie had missed the mark. He couldn’t believe it. They had already endured a spirited bollocking from Cowley and he didn’t want to hear it again from Doyle. He wished he could rewind the last four hours of his life and play the scene differently.  
  
Johnny Braemer, the slimy toad, had been looking like the cat that got the cream, leaning back on his seat and rolling a cigarette around his mouth as he took in the full view of Ray Doyle For Rent. He was just the right blend of vulnerable eyes, gaping shirt and ‘time on his hands’ to lure a dealer with an appetite for pretty boys. Braemer finished his assessment and, breaking into an oily grin, removed the cigarette to lick his lips.  
  
They almost had him! Ray only had to lead Johnny out the back and into the welcoming arms of Murphy and Turner, but the last leer proved one too many for Bodie. The cool, procedural mask slid from view. He pressed his lips together and moved towards the bar, casually brushing past the pair and knocking the contents of a pint glass into Braemer’s lap.  
  
The apparent hint of a smirk crossed Bodie’s face, almost undetectable in its brevity, but there just the same. Sadly, the satisfaction of his pin point accuracy didn’t last. It only took a second for Braemer, who was a canny rat, to wise up and sprint to freedom through the main entrance - the very spot Bodie was supposed to be covering. They gave chase of course, but returned thirty minutes later, sweating, exhausted and empty handed.  
  
As they drove back to Doyle’s flat the smell of traffic, sun-baked tarmac and the aromas from local takeaways hung on the warm evening air. The breeze streamed through the Capri windows and made the wisps of hair around Bodie’s ears flutter lightly. Doyle pretended not to notice.  
  
The heady bouquet emanating from Doyle’s corner chippy usually attracted Bodie like a magnet, but his mood had not improved since they left and the two started to make their way along the footpath in silence.  
  
‘Look, I think I’ll skip the drink and head back’ said Bodie eventually.  
  
‘Oh yeah? Got an appointment with your little black book then?’  
  
‘Nah, got to wash my hair.’  
  
‘And I/you just can’t do a thing with it!’ they chimed in unison.  
  
Ray threw a hopeful grin in Bodie’s direction, but not a glimmer returned. He decided then that enough was enough. He wasn’t about to let Bodie wander off into the night without an explanation, or at least some kind of clue as to what was going on in his head.  
  
‘Bodie, I know what’s bothering you..’  
  
‘Oh?’ he replied blankly.  
  
‘You’re a perfectionist. You didn’t survive the jungle by accident, did you? Attention to detail and procedure, mate – that’s your department. So you made a mistake…’  
  
‘Yeah, well it’s your department too and I didn’t see _you_ throw the op out the bloody window.’  
  
‘What got into you, anyway? We had Braemer right where we wanted him.’  
  
‘Well, there’s the rub.’  
  
‘Ehy?’  
  
‘You don’t understand. ..How _could_ you?’ Bodie chuckled dismissively and half shook his head. ‘Forget it, alright?’  
  
‘Understand what? ..Bodie? ..Don’t go getting cryptic on me.’  
  
Never one to telegraph his moves, Bodie suddenly broke his stride and lurched right. Doyle soon found himself bundled around a corner and into the shadows of a deserted delivery dock.  
  
Ray’s hair was a tangled mane in the humid air and his lower curls stuck to his skin in damp tendrils. The evening light picked up the muscular curves of his neck and his shirt hung open to a point well below his chest, a gentle mound of pectoral flesh partly visible. His lips were full and pink and parted ever so slightly at the centre in a way that made Bodie’s cock jerk.  
  
Still holding Doyle against the wall, Bodie looked away and gathered himself. He had already compromised his job by trying to keep his feelings hidden. He knew the only solution would be to lay his cards on the table and accept the consequences.  
  
He quietly forced out the words ‘ _You_ may have been happy with Braemer’s whereabouts, but I had to watch that scum run his eyes over you, all the time knowing you don’t…that I could never….’  
  
‘Couldn’t what?’ Ray continued and drew his face up level with Bodie’s.... _‘This?’_  
  
He placed a hand firmly over the tight bulge of Bodie’s trousers and returned the pressure. Bodie groaned heavily and fell against Ray’s throat, skin meeting skin and the taste of salt on his mouth.  
  
Their lips touched gently at first. Then with a rush, they sank onto each other, swaying, exploring; losing the world around them. This was all that mattered ..lush, deep and hypnotic.  
  
‘Bastard!’ breathed Bodie finally. ‘I never knew!’  
  
‘Well you never asked, did you?’ countered Doyle. ‘And you didn’t exactly send out a bulletin either, before today.’  
  
‘Got to be careful in some circles.’  
  
‘Not wrong! With my luck, the local Plod will ride past and throw the book at us’.  
  
‘Yeah, throw the book at _me_ more like, and pick up where I left off.’  
  
‘Sod off!’  
  
‘Ah, but you know I’m right, don’t you?’  
  
Bodie’s hand wandered inside Ray’s shirt rendering him silent, but for a gasp.  
  
Ray managed to extract his keys from somewhere within the crush and looked up to find himself held under the smoky gaze of Bodie’s fringed lashes. The words that had seemed so certain in his head, died on his lips. Instead, he flashed a crooked smile and nodded towards the flat.  
  
‘C’mon then, sailor.’

oooOOOooo


End file.
